Kristen Ashley - Fairytale Come Alive

His ten year old son, Jason, manfully heaved up the third largest suitcase and entered the house.

Prentice followed with the largest one, dropped it in the vestibule and then moved through the three of them, all of whom stopped and looked at him questioningly.

“Leave the luggage in the hall, kids, I’ll see to it later,” he ordered, his voice tight and Jason gave him a look Prentice carefully didn’t return as he passed his son and went into Fiona’s huge, open plan great room.

Prentice was going to kill his sister because her behavior had made it impossible to say no when Annie had announced her ridiculously inappropriate plans for the accommodation arrangements of two of her many wedding guests.

Mikey would be staying at Fergus’s house.

Isabella would be staying with Prentice, Jason and Sally.

Dougal’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when Annie made her announcement. Fergus’s eyes had rolled to the ceiling. Mikey’s lips had twitched and he looked carefully to the side. Isabella had remained completely cool and took a sip from her champagne.

Then she said, “I’d like to stay with you and Fergus, if you don’t mind, Annie.”

“ I don’t mind but Richard and Robert are going to be here later tonight and Mikey might mind.” Annie leaned into Mikey and whispered loudly, “They’re both fit and they’re both gay and they’re both single .”

Mikey leaned to Annie and whispered back (loudly), “ Really? ”

Annie widened her eyes comically and nodded.

Mikey turned to Isabella. “You’re staying with Prentice.”

Isabella sighed then replied, “I couldn’t impose. I’ll get a room in a hotel.”

Dougal started nodding and sat forward but Annie got there before him.

“You’re in the Scottish Highlands, my lovely, the closest hotel is twenty-five miles away and it’s booked with my party guests. Not… gonna… happen.”

Isabella didn’t lose even a little of her composure as her eyes moved to Prentice. “Perhaps we should ask Prentice if it’s okay if I stay with his family. I’m sure they’re very busy with school and work and activities and the like.”

She was, to his vague surprise, trying to give him an out.

Or, more likely, covering her own hide as she probably didn’t want to sleep under the roof of a man who she’d heartlessly played twenty years ago.

However, twenty minutes after his sister had verbally accosted her in the foyer of her friend’s home, he could hardly say no.

Therefore, he said, “We have plenty of room.” Then he lied, “You’re more than welcome.”

She didn’t miss a beat, nodded to him and said, “Well, that’s kind of you.”

Then she took another sip of her drink and started to study the carpet.

Complete cool.

In fact, ice cold.

How was he once in love with this woman?

An hour later, when he had to pick up the kids, he took her to the school and she stood beside him while Jason had sauntered and Sally had rushed toward the 4x4.

Sally came to a skidding halt and stared at Isabella. Then her wide, glittering, happy eyes swung to her father.

“Is she a movie star? ” Sally breathed.

Isabella startled him by laughing. It was not the uproarious, full-throated laughter he knew from decades ago. This was more controlled but, nevertheless, authentic.

“You’re my new best friend,” she told Sally.

Prentice mentally braced.

His daughter was all girl, all girl with no mother and the likes of Isabella was undoubtedly a dream come true.

“I am?” Sally whispered.

“You are,” Isabella confirmed on a nod then went on, sealing Prentice’s doom, “I like your nail polish.”

Sally held up her hands and surveyed them. “It needs changed.”

“I’m a pretty dab hand with a manicure,” Isabella replied.

Prentice had no doubt of that .

“You’d give me a manicure? ” Sally asked, like this was her most fervent wish when he knew that morning (because she told him, twice), her most fervent wish was to have a horse and the morning before it had been to go shopping at Harrods, not that he knew where she picked up that ludicrous idea and lamented the fact that his daughter had to go to school at all, especially when there were other girls there with imaginations far more vivid than Sally’s, which was saying something.

“I’m Bella,” Isabella said softly and Sally sighed.

“No, you’re Mrs. Evangelista,” Prentice stated firmly and Isabella’s head turned to him enquiringly but he ignored her and looked at his daughter. “And she’s staying with us for a week. She’s Annie’s maid of honor.”

“And I’m the flower girl!” Sally trilled, rushing up to Isabella and grabbing her hand. “We are going to be best friends, even better! Annie’s-wedding-friends!”

Prentice sighed, Jason, who had arrived, stared at his sister like she was from another planet.

“This is my son, Jason,” Prentice offered.

“Hello,” Isabella said softly, studying his son.

Jason moved his stare to her, pink hit his cheeks then he moved to the 4x4 and muttered, “’Lo.”

Fiona’s death had caused Sally confusion and distress, both of which she worked through with the spirit and zest for life that she’d inherited from her mother.

Fiona’s death had caused Jason immense pain which had not abated in the slightest in over a year.

The drive home had been filled with Sally’s chatter which was lucky even as it was annoying.

Now they were home and Prentice had no earthly clue what to do with Isabella Evangelista.

What he did know was that there was only one thing more hateful than having this woman in the home he’d built for Fiona and that one thing was the fact that Fiona no longer shared that home with him.

Sally, however, knew exactly what to do.

“I’m starving, ” she cried, dancing into the great room, holding Isabella’s hand and dragging her along. “Daddy, make us toad in the hole,” she demanded.

“I want takeaway,” Jason muttered as he slouched through the room, threw the post on the kitchen counter then headed toward the open-backed stairway that led to the second floor.

“We had takeaway last night,” Sally whined, “and the night before.”

She wasn’t wrong.

It had been takeaway the night before that too.

Fiona had done the cooking and the shopping. Since she was no longer there and the only things Prentice could cook that didn’t taste crap were cheese on toast, beans on toast and toad in the hole, takeaway was a staple for the Cameron family.

“It’s takeaway, lass, I’ve got things to do,” Prentice murmured, hitting the kitchen that opened to the great room, separated by a long, wide, v-shaped counter with stools and on its other side, floor to cathedral ceiling windows that faced the sea.

He picked up the post.

“I’ll cook,” Isabella offered and Prentice’s head snapped up.

Earlier, he’d been incorrect. It was more hateful having Isabella in Fiona’s kitchen cooking than it was simply having Isabella in Fiona’s house. Or, more to the point, cooking better than Fiona in Fiona’s kitchen.

Fiona was a damn fine cook however, if memory served, Isabella was an excellent one. Her cooking was a delicious mixture of home-cooking and gourmet. When she’d been there twenty years ago, both summers, she did it often for him, his family, their friends and she’d cooked and served fabulous tasting meals like it was second nature.

Sally’s head tilted back excitedly to look at her new idol.

“You cook and wear high heels?” she asked as if this was an act akin to negotiating world peace with global socialized healthcare thrown in.